


Left Unchecked

by KittyCatriona (War_Worn_Lipstick)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Ableist Language, Anger, Angst, Depression, M/M, Self-Hatred, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited Love, alcohol mention, i guess you could read it as abusive phil but not really at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 23:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6349957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/War_Worn_Lipstick/pseuds/KittyCatriona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They met in a train station and it was so obvious as soon as they saw each other that Dan Howell adored Phil Lester in a less-than-platonic manner. And Phil didn’t feel the same way. On some level Dan could tell, so he never got up the courage to act on his feelings. Phil really didn’t mind, because as long as someone was looking at Phil like <em>that,</em> then things definitely would get better. And they did—from that moment forward, Phil had never been happier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left Unchecked

Everyone knows Dan Howell is in love with Phil Lester. 

It’s been years, almost a third of Dan’s life, and things haven’t changed in the slightest. Not viscerally at least. They’ve moved a couple times, they’ve written a book and gone on tour, their Youtube channels have grown. Phil has gone through lovers—Dan can count at least six of them without straining himself. And yet things are exactly the same. 

Dan doesn’t think Phil knows that Dan’s in love with him. Because if he did know he would do something about it, right? They’d argue and say things they’d regret later? They’d throw things and one of them would storm out and not come back until morning? The other would pretend to be asleep while they listened through the walls to a suitcase being packed? No, Phil doesn’t know. There’s no way. 

When they see friends—whether it be at gatherings to make connections, at each other’s houses to film collaborations, or at pubs to just privately socialize—Dan gets a lot of pitying glances. He hates them, but part of him needs them as well. Pity serves as good validation for misery. 

A couple weeks ago, Phil was out of town visiting his parents, and Dan’s friend, Louise, came over to keep him company. They drank blackcurrant cocktails they’d mixed from Ribena and vodka, and they slowly and determinedly made their way through two large pizzas. It was a little past three AM when Louise draped her arm over Dan’s shoulder and leaned in close. She spoke a little too loudly for her proximity to his ear. “You’re making yourself unhappy, Dan,” she said. 

“Oh, am I?” he said.

“You need to find someone to make you not unhappy, okay?” She paused to hiccup, and Dan rolled his eyes. He’d gotten this talk from Louise before. “You’ve been pining after Phil for too long. It’s a lost cause, I think.” 

“You shouldn’t,” he said, giggling a little.

“What?”

He snorted. “Think. You shouldn’t think.”

She pretended to be offended and slapped his shoulder. “Rude,” she said. Their laughter was short-lived, dying down too soon because Dan’s mind was sort of somewhere else. “In all seriousness, though,” she said softly, “don’t you think it’s time?”

Dan shook his head. “I’m not unhappy, Lou,” he said. “Maybe you’d think I am, because it looks like such a hopeless situation, but.” 

“But?”

He rested his cheek on her shoulder and closed his eyes. “Just being close to him makes me feel good. Even if I know he couldn’t say the same for me.” 

There was another pause as they listened to a fan whir in the other room. “I think he can,” Louise said. “Say the same, I mean.” 

Dan made a small noise in the back of his throat and absently allowed himself to _imagine it_ as he drifted away to sleep.

The following morning, Dan felt—alongside the hangover—the familiar sadness that came along with letting his mind run unchecked into his dreams. He made a resolve, as he’d done hundreds of times before, to not let it happen again. Phil was his friend and that’s how it would always be. 

— — —

Phil Lester knows that Dan Howell is in love with him. 

It’s been years and Phil can hardly believe it, because that’s as long as he’s known Dan, and it’s not like Dan is that old. Dan has been in love with Phil since the poor kid became an adult. It’s painfully obvious, maybe even especially for Phil. Not only does he edit the videos in which Dan’s expression goes slack as he stares at Phil, but he’s there, witnessing it as it actually happens. Fans call it _Heart Eyes Howell._ Phil thinks that’s a fairly accurate assessment. He also thinks that the stirring in his chest he feels when Dan looks at him like that is pity. Phil has gone through lovers. He knows Dan has noticed. He feels sort of bad, but he’s also _never seen Dan in that way._

He can’t force feelings, can he? No. That would result in fights. Dan would probably throw things. Phil would definitely say things he’d regret later. There’d be screaming and everything would be ruined. Phil can’t let Dan know that he knows. There’s just no way. 

Their friends, on the rare occasions they meet up with them, do what they can to comfort Dan. Warm glances, gentle caresses, half-hugs. Some of them don’t look Phil in the eyes because they know that there’s no way he _hasn’t seen it_ and therefore think that he is deliberately screwing with Dan. They’re not exactly wrong. Some of Dan’s closer friends even go so far as to treat Phil with discontent.

Last week, Louise called Phil. Phil was surprised, to say the least. Louise tended to give Phil the cold shoulder. He had a feeling he knew where the call was going, but opted to give her a listen anyhow—if only because he knew she was important to Dan. “Is he with you?” she asked.

“No,” Phil replied. “He’s at Tesco.” 

“Okay,” she said, “good. Do you—are you blind?”

“Excuse me?”

“How long has it been, Phil? Dan is killing himself over you, do you know that?”

“I’m—what? I’m sorry.” 

“Did you know that Dan is in love with you?”

“I—well—”

“Because he is, and he has been for a long time.” Louise spoke quickly and clearly, as though she’d been thinking about what she wanted to say for quite a while, or had maybe even rehearsed it. “And I don’t know if you’re just too stupid to see it or if you honestly don’t care, but seriously, enough is enough.”

“Louise, please.”

“No! Dan is one of my best friends and I am sick of seeing him sad, alright? So stop dragging him along and do something already.”

There was a long pause before Phil spoke. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Do you have feelings for him?”

Phil swallowed. “No.”

Another pause. “Then tell him that and leave.” 

“But he’s my friend—my best friend.”

“He’s not capable of being just that anymore, Phil.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, but any fool could look at him and see it.”

Phil fought the urge to roll his eyes and instead settled for turning the phone to his other ear. He was about to ask how Louise thought she had any idea of what Dan was capable of when he heard the front door opening, bags rustling, footsteps on the stairs. “He’s back. I have to go.”

Louise sighed. “Take a good look at him. Figure it out.” 

And then she hung up, and Phil fiddled with his phone for a moment as he heard the footsteps reach the top of the stairs, and then he bolted into his bedroom to hide. He actually really did not want to look at Dan and figure it out. Dan was his friend and that’s how Phil wanted it to remain.

— — —

Phil does eventually get a good look at Dan. Today. Two weeks after blackcurrant cocktails and a week after Tesco. They’re prepping to film a video for their gaming channel and Dan is taking deep, slow breaths as he tries to find the perfect angle to set the camera. Phil notes the dark shadows under Dan’s eyes, the way his skin looks almost like it’s been melted. Dan catches Phil staring and sends him a sheepish smile before turning back to the camera and hoping Phil doesn’t notice the newfound heat in his cheeks. Phil rarely stares at Dan. Ninety-five percent of the time, it’s the other way around. 

They get on with filming the video and Phil is doing a lot of swearing, a lot of bitter laughing, a lot of fake smiling.

“Are you going to get those coins?” Dan asks. 

“Does it look like it?” Phil shoots back. 

Dan leans forward and clicks off the console. Phil freezes, his eyes on the now-black screen.

“What’s up?” Dan grabs the camera and deletes the ten minutes of footage they’d just shot. 

“What the fuck, Dan?” Phil sucks his cheeks between his teeth, eyes wide and angry. “We’re gonna have to film that again!”

“No shit,” Dan laughs but there’s no humor. “Now tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Nothing is fucking bothering me,” Phil says, and he sees Dan flinch at his swear. Phil meets Dan’s gaze with the intent of giving Dan a death glare, but when he sees the genuine worry in Dan’s eyes he can’t help but soften. “Sorry,” he says immediately. “I’m okay, I’m fine.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Dan pleads, his voice breaking. There’s so much love in his eyes. Phil feels that stirring in his chest and sure, maybe it’s partly due to pity, but mostly it’s just that warmth, it’s that confidence boost he longs for, it’s that feeling of belonging he can only find in Dan. He can only find in _Heart Eyes Howell._

He really didn't mean for things to get this out of hand. 

— — —

Phil had been tired. He’d been depressed. Sure, maybe he’d been a little lonely. But mostly he’d just been hating himself. He’d started making Youtube videos a few months before to try and remedy the feeling. He’d thought that if he could stick with something for once in his life he’d feel better. He’d thought that having strangers see and even look forward to seeing his face would make everything okay. He was almost right. It turned out most of the strangers didn’t matter. It was just Dan. 

It started with messages, and Dan made Phil feel important. He told Phil that Phil’s videos were the only things that could make Dan smile lately. Phil thought that was nice. 

They met in a train station and it was so obvious as soon as they saw each other that Dan adored Phil in a less-than-platonic manner. And Phil didn’t feel the same way. On some level Dan could tell, so he never got up the courage to act on his feelings. Phil really didn’t mind, because as long as someone was looking at Phil like _that,_ then things definitely would get better. And they did—from that moment forward, Phil had never been happier. 

— — — 

He decides to play dumb. “Do you love me, Dan?”

Dan sputters and the camera falls from his hands into his lap. He picks it back up and fiddles with the lens. “What? Of course. You’re my best friend.”

“Not like that,” Phil says, and he really wishes Dan would just look at him right now. “You know I don’t mean like that.”

Dan is uncharacteristically still and he seems to not be breathing. Phil puts a hand between his shoulder blades and it doesn’t do a single thing to help. “Yes,” he eventually says. Then, when Phil doesn’t respond right away, a horribly forced smile breaks onto Dan’s face with an equally as forced laugh. “This is where we make out, right? Like in all the fan fictions?” 

Dan doesn’t need to look up to know that Phil is shaking his head. 

“Yeah,” Dan says. “I thought not.” 

“I think,” Phil starts. 

“You shouldn’t,” Dan interrupts.

“Very funny,” Phil says. 

“Sorry,” Dan says. “What should we do?” He’s still not looking at Phil, but Phil is looking at him. Phil is noticing the way the hair over Dan’s forehead is trembling—Dan might look frozen in place, but he’s shaking ever-so-slightly. Phil is noticing the tight line of Dan’s lips. Phil is noticing how Dan’s irises match the circles under his eyes. 

“I think it’s up to you,” Phil says. 

Finally Dan looks, but his face betrays no emotion. When he whispers, his voice snaps in half, and Phil really does not want to deal with a crying Dan. “I just want you.” 

Phil shakes his head and sees how Dan’s bottom lip just quivered. So he takes a chance and kisses his best friend, soft and sudden. He hadn't thought it through. Or maybe he thought it would change things, create that spark they so intensely needed.

“No,” Dan says against Phil’s mouth before he pushes him away. “Please no. I can’t.” 

Phil sits back in his chair and nods once. He doesn’t look at Dan but he can hear his short breaths and soft sobs. Crying. 

There’s a long silence and they’ve never felt so far apart. There are worlds between them, thick and unchecked like an overgrown garden. There are stars they can only see when the other is looking away. Phil thinks that the stirring in his chest might be heartbreak. 

“I hate myself,” he says after a while, though he isn’t entirely sure why. 

“I’m sorry,” Dan responds. “My fault.”

“No,” Phil says, and that’s that. Dan puts the camera in its case and slumps away to his bedroom. Phil stays seated for a long time. Then, he gets up and scrounges the kitchen. He makes them both a bowl of cereal and they chew slowly as they watch television. They decide to film their gaming video tomorrow morning. 

“That was stupid,” Dan says, referring to something that happened on the TV. 

“Yeah,” Phil says, “it was.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all for reading! i hope it was at least sort of enjoyable? 
> 
> (i would ofc appreciate comments, and constructive criticism is always very welcome! i didn't edit the last part so let me know if you spot any typos and i will fix them)
> 
> much love


End file.
